


Spanish flower

by Sol_Invictus



Series: Unus pro omnibus, omnes pro uno [8]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, sort of character study
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:59:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3198023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sol_Invictus/pseuds/Sol_Invictus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rochefort is now back by his Queen's side, and he is determined not to let her down, this time.</p><p>A series of drabbles on Rochefort and Anne's relationship from my point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really unhappy with their canon relationship, so here have my broken dreams and hopes for them.

Despite what they said, Rochefort couldn’t see his mission as an honour. Escorting a Spanish brat to France, as royal as said brat may be, was definitely _not_ the role of a soldier like him. The Spanish Court was as detestable as the rest of this damned country: gloomy and austere, boasting with their hypocritical Catholic devotion and far too boring.

The brat, however, was…different. Her name was Ana María and she was a frightened fourteen year old girl. Rochefort found her pretty as a doll. Apart from two or three sentences butchered by her horrible Spanish accent, she didn’t speak French. Not that it bothered the soldier much, he was only supposed to get her in France, after all. And he never liked Spanish dolls anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

The Dauphin was babbling happily in the Queen’s arms. Rochefort gazed lovingly at them from afar, his scarred and cold soul getting a brief moment of joy and comfort. The soldier had never cared for children in the slightest. But this child was _Anne’s_. This frail, small creature was the joy of his Spanish flower, her soul, her _heart._

But hearts were all too easily broken in this cruel world. Rochefort had seen the Queen’s heart getting broken more than once (the memory of his exile from Court suddenly flashed into his mind, and he remembered with sickening clarity Anne’s devastated face) and witnessing it again was something he couldn’t bear.

As his sweet Anne laughed like the bright and innocent child she used to be a very long time ago, the Comte silently swore he would protect the Dauphin and cherish him as he cherished his Spanish flower.


	3. Chapter 3

“Walk with me, Rochefort.”

The Comte followed the Queen into the beautiful gardens of the Louvre. Rochefort had many good memories in here.

“Do you remember this bench?” asked the young woman.

“How could I ever forget it, your Majesty?”

This marble bench, surrounded by ivy leaves and colourful flowers, had been the spring shelter of Anne and Rochefort. They had learned each other’s mother tongue here during many warm spring days.

“I have come here many times after…” even after all these years, the memory of the Comte’s exile was still painful in the Queen’s heart.

“As have my thoughts.” He knew perfectly the pain of the young woman.

But the pain faded as they sat down in this sweet-smelling cocoon of leaves and happy memories, conversing in a long-unspoken language Anne had learned during her happy childhood.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by S02E07. Sorry for the wait, I haven't got much inspiration these days.

In the very early spring, Anne had known peace. Well, she had been more a child than a woman at that time, Rochefort remembered. Spring had surprised everyone back then; no one had been expecting it so soon after such a difficult winter. The Comte had taken it as a bad omen; such an early spring meant an even harder winter and Anne was so frail then… Rochefort was just a man, and men could do nothing against illnesses and childbed fevers. So he had hoped that his sister’s crucifix, who had protected him so well against death and gangrene, would guard the Queen safe.

“I will always wear it. Always!” her smile had been as warm as the spring sun, her watery eyes sparkling.

The missing of his gift around the Queen’s neck had caught Rochefort’s eyes the second he had gazed upon her when he finally returned to the Court. He had grimly thought that her mother-in-law must have taken it from Anne after his exile.

His surprise was great to see it hanging from Aramis’ neck. Relief and happiness washed over him; the Queen had cherished it all these years, had had at least that small comfort. And if Rochefort had to admit that seeing the man parading with it every morning under his nose as the early spring air irritated his eyes was everything but pleasant, seeing the _look_ Anne gave Aramis was the reason his eyes were watering and his soul was warmer. Yes, the Comte could die a happy and reassured man; in this very early spring, Anne knew _peace_.


End file.
